Ave and the Prisoner
by jlora123
Summary: It's Ave's first year at Hogwarts, and strange things are happening. She's just found out that she was adopted, a prisoner is on the loose, and magic is everywhere. How's a girl to survive! By being best friends with Harry Potter of course!


Disclaimer: Lol never mine. I just play with JK Rowling's characters and world.

AN: Well hello! It's been a long time, hasn't it! Years I'd say. I'm re-working/re-writing this story and _The Forgotten One_, whose first new chapter has already been posted (AKA y'all should check it out). I will be updating this story every other Thursday (fingers crossed). Just so you know the first chapter deals with an (however badly written) abusive home situation. If that is a trigger, proceed with caution. And finally, come follow my writing tumblr, jlora123 dot tumblr dot com. Enjoy! And if you enjoyed, review!

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CHAPTER ONE - THE LETTER, THE PROFESSOR AND THE GRIM

The nightmare had ended abruptly. One moment, Avery Whittaker was wrapped in its ghastly clutches and the next every single, horrifying detail was slipping away, like water slipping through a cupped hand. The more you tried to grasp it, the more it fell back to where it came from. The nightmare was ephemeral and yet... Avery had the feeling that she should not forget its details so quickly. It had seemed important while she was in it.

She could definitely remember a man with a snake face laughing and a rat and a writhing skull or... Could she? It all seemed rather blurred together. Avery, or Ave as she preferred to be called, put it from her mind. There were bigger things to worry about, such as the fact that, at that very second, she was supposed to be cooking breakfast for her parents and brother.

The clock was blinking _8:47 AM_. Ave cursed when she saw the time. Everyday she had to have breakfast made by nine on the dot, or there would be consequences. And those consequences were ones that she hoped to avoid.

"AVERY! BREAKFAST BETTER BE READY BY THE TIME WE GET DOWNSTAIRS! OR SO HELP ME!" The dulcet tones of Mrs. Jessica Whittaker seemed shrill even through the closed door. Ave closed her eyes for a moment, preparing herself for the day to come.

Summer was Ave's least favorite time of year. At least during the school year, Ave could get away and spend the majority of the day at school or at the park nearby her house. The summer however was a different story. Long days were spent in the house, with frayed nerves and careful movements. Careful, careful, careful to never make too much noise. Careful, careful, careful to never draw the attention of her parents, Jessica and Jacob Whittaker, towards whatever she was doing.

Careful, careful, careful.

"AVERY! START BREAKFAST WILL YOU, YOU USELESS LUMP?!" As Mr. Jacob Whittaker bellowed at Ave from across the house, she had to wonder if it was really possible that her parents had forgotten that it was her birthday. It wasn't everyday that one turned eleven, after, but Avery's parents didn't seem to care about the momentous occasion. In fact, they didn't seem to care one whit about anything to do with her.

Sometimes Ave felt as though she were an outsider in the Whittaker family, someone who was never meant to be there. She even looked different from the rest of them! Where all of them had stick straight, fine, dull, brown hair, she had long, thick, black hair that fell in ringlets down her back. Where they had eyes in shades of brown, her eyes were a sparkling gray. Where they were tall and thickly built, she was short and lithe.

Ave raced out of her room, pulling her sweat pants up her legs as she ran through the hallway and down the stairs, only to bump into a solid mass.

"Sorry Avie, happy birthday," The last member of the Whittaker family, Avery's brother Theo whispered as she dragged herself up off the ground, then continued to fly towards the kitchen.

After cooking breakfast in record time (maybe the eggs were a bit runny, but who could tell really?), Ave slumped down in her seat. As soon as her butt so much as brushed against the seat, however, Ave was told to make herself useful and go get the mail.

Laying on top of the pile of mail was a very curious envelope. The paper was thicker than the rest of the envelopes, and it was the heaviest thing in the pile. What was even more curious about the envelope, however, was that it was addressed to her.

"Avery Whittaker, The Smallest Bedroom, 39 Hawthorne Street…" Ave whispered to herself, her eyes growing wide as she took in the strange sight in front of her. Even the ink wasn't normal! For some unknown reason, everything on the thick envelope was written in an emerald green, instead of the normal black.

Turning the envelope over, Ave was even more shocked to find it sealed with an unfamiliar insignia – what appeared to be an eagle, a badger, a snake and a lion all intertwined around a calligraphic looking capital H.

"AVERY! WHAT THE HELL IS TAKING SO LONG?!" The yells of Mr. Whittaker broke through Ave's train of thought. She glanced around quickly to make sure that no one had seen her taking the letter, then, when she was sure that the coast was clear, shoved it into her pocket so she could read it later.

Hours later, when she had finally gotten a moment to herself, Ave nervously slit open the envelope and warily eyed the letter that spilled out. Was this supposed to be some sick sort of joke? It wasn't funny!

**Hogwarts School **_of _**Witchcraft **_and _**Wizardry**

The header of the letter read in a majestic font. A school for _witchcraft_?! What?!

Dear Miss Whittaker,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a necessary list of books and equipment for your first year. Term begins September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

Ave gingerly held the letter, and swallowed down the lump that had clogged her throat. Looking at the rather extensive supplies list, the lump in her throat grew to a larger size. Even if witchcraft and wizardry was, by some magic, real, how was she ever going to get her parents to shell out the money that it would take for her to attend?

A boarding schools was Ave's dream – extended periods of time away from her parents was everything she wanted in life – but how was she ever going to get her parents to agree? Sighing, Ave vowed to forget the letter.

That was at least until the doorbell rung, echoing through the house, and the door was opened to admit Professor McGonagall herself.

* * *

Professor McGonagall had quickly established herself, at least in Avery's mind, as a no nonsense sort of woman. She was wearing flowing, navy blue robes and a pinched expression on her strict looking face.

And she had also made the air in the room awkward.

Mr. and Mrs. Whittaker were somewhat annoyed that there was a stranger dressed in odd clothes sitting stiffly in their living room but, to maintain the pretense that they could be polite people when they so desired, did not kick her out.

"Mr. and Mrs. Whittaker, as you may have guessed from our letter, Hogwarts has accepted –" Professor McGonagall started, only to be cut off by Mr. Whittaker.

"What letter? We never received a letter, and certainly we've never received a letter from somewhere named Hogwarts!" He protested huffily.

Professor McGonagall, who looked like she would have rather dealt with a rampaging lion than with the disagreeable Whittakers, sighed. "The fact remains that a letter was sent and was delivered to the young Miss Whittaker."

"Did you get a letter and not tell us, you little bitch?" Mr. Whittaker snarled at Ave.

A gasp escaped from between Professor McGonagall's usually tightly pressed together lips. "REALLY! Is that type of language appropriate?! Especially considering the girl just turned eleven today! I expected better from grown adults!"

Mrs. Whittaker punched Mr. Whittaker's arm. "What he meant was that no, we were not aware of such a thing. Avery… darling… would you be willing to let us, your _parents_, read the letter that you apparently received?"

Ave eyed her parents warily as she handed the letter. Was Mrs. Whittaker just acting kind for Professor McGonagall's sake? What would happen once she left?!

It was obvious when the two had finished reading the letter in question by the exclamation that issued forth from Mrs. Whittaker's mouth. "If you expect me to pay to send my daughter to a school for magic," Here she snorted, "then you have ANOTHER THING COMING! THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS MAGIC AND I WON'T PAY FOR THIS UNGRATEFUL GIRL TO GO TO A SCAM SCHOOL THAT TEACHES NOTHING REAL!"

"Now wait for one moment. I know it may be hard to comprehend that magic is real, but I can show you –"

"What could you possibly show us 'Professor McGonagall', though what it is that you are a professor of, to make us believe that magic exists?! Honestly, the nerve of some people!"

Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and Mrs. Whittaker was silenced. Once the aforementioned woman had realized what had happened, she waved her hands about wildly.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY WIFE WOMAN?!" Mr. Whittaker was not pleased.

"Really! The nerve of you people," Mr. Whittaker was quickly silenced as well, "I have come about the fact that your foster daughter will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the fall. If you are unable to afford the cost, Hogwarts will help. Furthermore, over the next month, I will come over multiple times to oversee Avery's assimilation into wizard culture."

Avery, who had been listening to her parents and the professor argue, was shocked into the same effect as her parents. Foster daughter? She wasn't _really _a Whittaker? Why hadn't she been told? Who really was she?

Ave was vaguely aware the Professor McGonagall was talking, but everything sort of floated through her mind as though she were in a haze. Her vision blurred as the fact truly sunk in.

She wasn't really a Whittaker. She didn't have parents. Did she belong anywhere?

Finally Professor McGonagall cut through Ave's train of thought.

"Avery, I asked if you had any questions. Do answer and be polite, if you could."

Ave gulped. "Yes… actually… Could you possibly clarify what you meant by foster daughter? Am I really not related to… uh… them?" Ave didn't know how to refer to the people whom she had previously called her parents and thus just pointed at them.

The silenced pair had taken to glaring at anything and everything that dared even think about looking over at them. Their previous resistance had proved futile enough that they had given up.

Professor McGonagall's face drifted towards a sad expression. "You didn't know? I'm sorry you had to find out this way, dear, though maybe it's for the best that you aren't related to these people? They really aren't very kind to you. But yes, you aren't their true daughter. You were placed here due to the fact that your birth parents were indisposed at the time."

Ave glanced over at Mr. and Mrs. Whittaker again. Her entire life had been a lie. How was she supposed to move on knowing that the people who fed and clothed and yelled at her weren't really related to her? Without the familial bonds holding her to them, she felt no sense of connection, no sense of _home_ at 39 Hawthorne Street.

Lots had, once more, happened during the time that Ave was thinking. She was shocked out of her thoughts by the sound of her name being called, again. This time, however, it was the voice of Mrs. Whittaker (who had evidently been un-silenced during this period) that was calling her name.

Mrs. Whittaker's face was twisted into a rather unattractive sneer. "Of COURSE you aren't related to us you wretched girl. How could you even imagine that someone such as YOU could come from people such as us? You are so worthless, how could you even fathom that you were related to us?!"

"Mrs. Whittaker! It is clear that you are unable to take care of this girl! She will be coming to live with me for the duration of the summer, as it is obvious that you emotionally and verbally abuse this poor child. If this is how you treat her while I am in the house, I shudder to imagine how you treat her when alone. Avery, I will get your stuff. You wouldn't mind coming with me, would you?" The end of Professor McGonagall's tirade was said in a much kinder tone than the rest.

"That… I guess… That's all right," Ave whispered.

Everything was happening so fast! She had had dreams that started by some stranger whisking her off to a better fate, but had never imagined that it would actually happen.

Ave could've gotten whiplash with just how fast the circumstances were switching around.

Before she knew it, she was trailing behind Professor McGonagall as she left 39 Hawthorne Street for the last time. Taking one last look back, Ave's heart broke as she made out Doug's face plastered to the upstairs window, tear-stained and miserable.

"I'll get you out of there Dougie, if it's the last thing I do," She vowed quietly to herself.

Ave turned back to Professor McGonagall, and ran to catch up to the woman. She was certainly setting a very brisk pace, and seemed to be fuming to herself about something or other. Once the two had reached the end of the street, Professor McGonagall held out her hand for Ave to grab and, once the two had linked hands, spun tightly in a circle.

A horrible pressure crushed Ave's chest in, and she felt as though her entire body, her very existence, were being squeezed into a very small tube. The feeling probably only lasted for about a second, but it felt as if she had been in the tube for ages when she was finally able to bend over, clutching her ribcage and gasping for breath.

"Terribly sorry about that Miss Whittaker, but apparition is really better if you don't know what's coming. It was also the only way for us to get back to my flat," Professor McGonagall's explanation was rather inadequate in Ave's eyes.

It was only when she stood fully back up after catching her breath back fully that Ave realized that she was in a completely different place than she was in before.

Trees surrounded the two, and the only sound that Ave could hear besides Professor McGonagall's voice was the chirping of birds. A floral scent drifted through the air, and patches of Queen Anne's Lace and periwinkle bloomed all around. The park was the most peaceful place that Ave could ever remember having been in, except for –

"What's _that?!_" Ave exclaimed, pointing towards the large, mangy looking dog that had poked its head out from between two mildly overgrown shrubs.

"That, my dear, is the food of rubbish. It is simply a stray dog, though it is what a Divination, or sort of prophesier, might call a 'grim' or a symbol of death. It is a load of codswallop and, come your third year, I encourage you to not even consider taking Divination."

"Oh," Ave replied quietly; she was still somewhat nervous.

"It's fine, dear. Come along, we should move back to my flat quickly. I'll explain magic when we get there," The professor said briskly, though not unkindly.

Ave smiled at the pleasantry of Professor McGonagall – no one had _ever _treated her so kindly. She could tell she was going to like this woman.


End file.
